


Obstruction of Justice

by OpalizedFossil



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, F/M, Human AU, Pegging, Poor Workplace Practices, Prostate Play, Sex Toys, butt stuff, fem dom, grand theft auto?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 16:26:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14359218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: Emerald employees her own system of justice.





	Obstruction of Justice

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr request! Requests are closed now.
> 
> Remember to follow me on [Tumblr](http://www.opalizedfossil.tumblr.com) for request openings, exclusive fics, and more! I post many short fics and other little drabbles on Tumblr that I don't post here!

Emerald is furious.

No, beyond furious.

She’s absolutely _seething_.

The other officers have the common sense to move aside as she storms down the hallway with a fistful of manila folders, jerks the interrogation room door open, and lets it slam closed behind her.

Inside, Laramie “Lars” Barriga sits with his handcuffed wrists rested on the scuffed dirty tabletop and that wicked sideways smirk on his face. His grey eyes glimmer with undaunted amusement as Emerald drops the stack of manila folders in front of him, then slams both hands down on the table, screeching, “Where is it?!”

Lars leans back in his chair with a tight-lipped little grin, his hands flopping into his lap aimlessly. “I’m sorry, Officer. Where is what?”

“You damn well know what I mean, bitch,” Emerald snarls through gritted teeth. She’s livid, a single vein bulging in her forehead and her lips drawn back over her glinting white teeth. Her cheeks are rosy red, flushed with fury, and her nose is wrinkled, nostrils flaring like a raging bull’s. Together with the way her one glass eye always seems to glint and gleam in the glaring fluorescent lights of the interrogation room, not looking altogether human, the angry expression makes her look particularly mean and nasty. Oh, he’s really gotten under her skin this time - and he couldn’t be happier about it.

“Oh, you mean your little sports car?” Lars asks nonchalantly.

“Little sports car?!” Emerald snarls, “Sunny is not just some little sports car, you imbecile! She’s a -”

Lars recites the make and model of the car without interest. “I know, I know. Y'know, that’s a fancy car for a lady your age. What’s wrong, Emmy, having a midlife crisis and need a fancy sports car with a tacky paintjob to make you feel young again?”

“I’m only thirty-three!” Emerald screeches.

Lars laughs. “Jeez, why’s the car matter to you so much, anyways? Trust me, baby, she’s fine. Just took her out for a spin after I snatched your keys after our little…roll in the hay a few nights ago. She’s a pretty nice car, y'know. Drives real smooth.”

Emerald nearly hyperventilates. Lars glances down, smirking faintly as he admires the way her generous breasts bounce and heave beneath her police uniform. Did Emerald wear a size too small because she was self-conscious about needing a large, or did this particular police station just give its employees particularly tight-fitting uniforms?

Emerald swallows hard. “Hey, eyes up here. Now, tell me where Sunny is, or I’m going to beat your brains out right here.”

Lars snorts. “Jeez, baby. I think I’m entitled to a lawyer.”

“You confessed to stealing my car,” she snarls, “A lawyer can’t help you now.”

“Okay,” Lars chuckles, then looks around, “Then, I think I’m entitled to a proper interrogation, at least. Isn’t there supposed to be a camera running? I don’t think your precious little judicial system would be happy with you threatening to ‘beat my brains out’ during an interrogation.”

Emerald’s lips curl back over her teeth. He’s always found them to look unnaturally sharp, especially the canines. It makes her look even more mean. “You want this recorded? Fine,” she retorts as she walks to the nearby tripod, already equipped with a digital recorder, and adjusts it. Then, with a press of a button, the camera comes on. A message appears on the tiny digital screen, Low Battery. Emerald smirks, then returns to the interrogation table and sits down across from Lars. He’s an attractive twenty-something with curly pink hair, just barely faded to a natural ginger red at the roots, and the cheerful dark eyes of someone who’s entirely too happy to be under arrest - for the third time this month, if she remembers correctly.

“Alright, Laramie Barriga,” Emerald addresses him much more calmly, flipping through a manila folder for a moment before she turns it towards him. Inside is a printed photo of the stolen vehicle, with its tacky metallic gold paintjob glinting hideously in the sunlight. Of course Emerald is the type to take pictures of her stupid sports car. “Does this vehicle look familiar to you?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it around,” Lars snorts, “Hard not to remember a tacky-looking thing like that ugly abomination.”

Emerald’s jaw twitches. Lars sees the anger flare up in her left eye, the one that isn’t glass. “Where were you on Wednesday night?”

“Home,” Lars replies quickly, “and my parents can attest to that, so can I go now?”

“Really? Because it says here that you live alone,” Emerald informs him as she flips through a second manila folder, full of all the dirt she’s collected on him over the past few months, since he moved her from the next town over and, unfortunately, became her problem, “Your parents’ current address is listed in Beach City.”

Lars shrugs. “Then, your records aren’t up-to-date. They moved here last month.”

“And why is that? To give their son an alibi whenever he gets into trouble? Because I certainly see you in here a lot.” She counts his latest offenses on her fingers and shakes her head, tsking. “Third time this month, isn’t it? Good to see you again.”

“What can I say, baby? You can’t get enough of me.” He grins, then frowns and looks at the recorder when it suddenly starts to beep.

“Are you going to cooperate or not, Barriga?” Emerald retorts tiredly, massaging her temples. She has a headache. “You’ve already confessed to stealing the vehicle. So, where is it?”

“Sorry, Officer, you must be mistaken,” he replies smugly, “I don’t have your car, and I don’t know who does. Now, are you going to charge me with something, or can I leave?”

“You and I both know that I can legally hold you for thirty-six hours without charging you,” she informs him, as she has many times before, then looks at him, “Now, I never mentioned who the vehicle belonged to, but you just admitted that you knew it belonged to me. Care to explain how you know that?”

“I told you, I’ve seen it around,” Lars says, “and I just happened to see you driving it. So, I knew it was yours.”

“Do you remember every car and driver you see that clearly, Barriga?” Emerald prompts, and then the camera stops beeping. Perfect.

Lars looks at the recorder. “Hey, I think your camera died.”

“It did,” Emerald replies nonchalantly as she rises to lock the door. The station is outdated and the city hasn’t had the money to make much-needed updates to it since the eighties, so the interrogation room lacks not only air-conditioning, but a two-way window. There isn’t a single vantage point into the room, except for the now tightly sealed doorway. “Too bad we’re out of batteries, hmm?”

Lars looks around the room for a way out. “Emerald. You know someone will come to check on us and catch -”

Emerald interrupts him, in the exact same moment that she flips a bulging manila folder buried in the stack of files she brought in open to reveal a bright green strap-on on a black nylon harness, “Oh, baby, I’m afraid I already thought of that. You see, quitting time was fifteen minutes ago. You could say I’m working a little…overtime.” She’s already stepping into the straps of the toy, tightening the harness around her thick shapely thighs over the trousers of her uniform. The strap-on juts out in front of her, a generous nine inches long. “So, you wanna tell me where Sunny is?”

Lars swallows hard. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Emerald says with a grin, then reaches into the breast pocket of her uniform and retrieves three plastic packets of lube and two condoms, “You’re either going to cooperate, or I’m going to force it out of you.”

Lars watches in pensive silence as Emerald walks around behind him, yelping when the chair is suddenly yanked out from underneath him. Emerald’s arm catches him around the waist before he can fall, holding him up against her while her other hand grabs a fistful of his ass and squeezes. Now, it’s her turn to smirk.

“Are the handcuffs uncomfortable, baby?” Emerald coos as she nuzzles her face into the shaven side of his head, to whisper directly into his ear, “Good.”

He only vaguely registers the feeling of her unfastening his belt, his mind preoccupied with the sensation of her hot breath gusting over his earlobe before her needle-sharp teeth dig into it, working away at the tender flesh not entirely gently. She nibbles around the perimeter of his skull-shaped gauge, then yanks his belt out of its belt loops and tosses it to the floor, where it lands with a noisy clatter. Everyone must really be gone, because she isn’t at all concerned with getting caught.

Emerald pulls his pants down without unbuttoning or unzipping them, the rumpled denim rolling roughly over his half-hard cock, twitching to life in response to her teeth on his ear and her breath on his neck and the strap-on digging into his backside. She doesn’t dare touch it as she holds him around the waist with one hand and works his trousers down with the other. Once his jeans are bunched up around his ankles, she shoves him forward, planting a palm firmly between his shoulder blades as he just scarcely stops his face from smacking into the tabletop. Grumbling, he props his elbows up on the tabletop, the handcuffs chewing red marks into his wrists, and glares at her over his shoulder.

“I’m not surprised that you’re not wearing any underwear,” she teases him as she tears open a packet of lube, squeezing the crystal-clear goo out onto the middle and index fingers of her right hand. She cut her nails, he realizes with a start. She had had veritable claws, an inch long and always meticulously manicured, for as long as he had known her, but now she had cut them.

“You planned this!” Lars accuses her.

Emerald snorts. “I certainly did. You see, I had two days to meditate on it. I knew as soon as I woke up and saw that Sunny was gone that I needed to come up with a special punishment, just for you.”

Lars snorts, too. “What, you don’t fuck your other prisoners in the ass while they’re bent over the interrogation table?”

“Nope,” she says with a grin as she presses two fingers to the tight ring of his anus, “Just you.” Then, without another word, she presses both digits into him at once, pleased at how he flinches at the cold tingling sensation of the lube and the hot pressure of her fingers.

“A-Ah…,” Lars manages to whine. Emerald holds her fingers still for a moment, two knuckles deep inside of him, then slowly and deliberately twists them sideways. She relishes in the way his inner walls flinch and twitch around her, the tender muscles having a fit at her unexpected intrusion as she brushes the rough pads of her fingers delicately over his prostate. “E-Emmy!” he yelps.

“I know, baby, so sensitive here, aren’t you?” she teases as she touches him twice more, gently at first, then harder, pressing her fingertips firmly against the gland until his lips split open in a not-so-subtle moan. The lube feels entirely too cold as she spreads it around inside him, before it quickly warms up from the temperature of his body. If it hadn’t been in his ass, he might have welcomed the cold, already feeling himself starting to sweat. The dampness rises on his forehead and the close-shaven sides of his head, his cheeks flushed and hot. Nothing gets him worked up like butt stuff.

Emerald massages his prostate for half a minute more, that palm still planted firmly between his shoulders, then, all at once, she pulls away. He whines, feeling suddenly, achingly empty. He should have known that she wasn’t here to play nice. “Shh. Don’t worry, baby, I’m just getting warmed up. Gotta get a condom on you, so you don’t blow your load all over my nice, clean floor. Just mopped in here, you know.”

Lars whimpers. “C'mon, Emmy, don’t tease me like that…”

“Hmm? Oh, you know, I might move a little faster if you told me where Sunny is,” she suggests, then makes a show of bending over him, so her arms are out in front of him as she tears open a condom, meticulously slowly, peeling the wrapper away as if it’s a delicate prized piece of china. He whines, but remains tight-lipped. Just underneath the table, his cock twitches, now swollen to its full size, as she glides the condom on a full two minutes later, the pleasant buzz that had quickly built up in his belly as she toyed with his prostate gone already. “Fine. Don’t talk. See where it gets you, bitch.”

Lars’ jaw twitches. Unfortunately for him, Emerald notices. She grins devilishly, squeezing the slimy contents of another packet of lube onto her fingers as she remarks, “That’s right. You’re my bitch, Lars. Hey, look at me.”

He glances at her over her shoulder. His eyes are somehow both hazy with lust and glinting with anger, the way she’s sure she’s looked at him many times before. She smirks, then gestures to the strap-on before her, which she promptly begins to slather with lube. She spears the slippery substance over the silicone shaft until its shiny-wet, gripping the base of her fake cock in one hand when she’s done. “Hope you’re ready, baby. Here comes.”

The cool silicone presses steadily into his ass. Lars bites his lower lip, barely stifling a whimper at the initial stretch. This part’s always the most uncomfortable, and he hardly thinks he can count on Emerald to play nice at a time like this. But, to his surprise, she thrusts into him until her hips are pressed flush to his backside, then stops. She leans forward, hands gripping tightly to his hips, and bites him lightly on the ear. His gauge falls out and bounces off the table, skipping off into the shadows nearby, but he hardly notices, entranced by the tight full feeling in his ass and the teeth nibbling on his tender earlobe. His breathing hitches, chest rising and falling a little faster. “Fuck…,” he whispers without realizing.

“Do I feel good, baby?” Emerald purrs in his ear. Her hot breath hits the side of his face and, breathing hard, he feels the first droplet of sweat glide down his temple. He doesn’t answer her, so she leans back, squeezes his hips, and thrusts into him hard. Lars yelps in delight. Emerald knows how to play his games now and, even better, she knows where all his sweet spots are, every motion of her hips sending the strap-on skittering across his prostate just enough to tease and torture him. His cock feels painfully hard, throbbing miserably. “That’s right. You’re my little bitch. My favorite fuck hole. What would all your 'partners in crime’ think of you now, huh? Seeing you bending over and getting pounded by a cop?”

Lars tries to stifle his moans, but it’s no use. Emerald knows exactly how he likes to be fucked. Her thrusts feel both too slow and too hard, the strap-on overwhelming in the best possible way. He groans loudly, the handcuffs digging painfully into his skin as he rests his weight a bit too heavily on his wrists, but he doesn’t care. “F-Fuck…”

Emerald kisses him on the shoulder as she thrusts into him, gradually picking up the pace. “You like that, don’t you, baby? Emmy knows how to fuck you right, doesn’t she? And you know how I know? Because you’re a filthy slut who spends so much time underneath me.”

He feels himself blush, even though his face is already so hot that he shouldn’t reasonably be able to. A bead of sweat rolls down the bridge of his nose and drips off the tip, landing on his lips. He licks them and tastes the salt, but can’t keep his mouth closed for long, panting heavily as she fucks him. He can feel the tight knot of climax winding itself steadily tighter in his depths, a searing warmth building in his stomach, just above his pelvic bone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Lars comes so hard that his vision flashes white for a hot second before he slumps forward on his forearms, pressing his forehead against the cool tabletop, now damp with his sweat. The room spins, the walls and floor and ceiling and sparse furniture congealing into one blurry grey blob as the height of his orgasm makes his head whirl. He can hear Emerald talking to him - taunting him, teasing him - but he can’t tell what she’s saying in the heat of the moment, until he shakes his head as it starts to clear.

“Damn, I thought you fainted,” Emerald teases, slapping him hard on the ass and making him yelp as she tugs the strap-on out of his ass mercilessly, “Wouldn’t that be something, hmm? Officer Emmy fucks that stupid pink-haired punk so hard that he passes out.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he snarks as he lifts his head. His ass feels tender, but not sore. Emerald is rough, but she never hurts him - because, deep down, that nasty bitch has a heart, whether she wants to admit it or not.

“Now…” Emerald claps her hands together, as if she’s dusting them off. “You wanna tell me where Sunny is?”

Lars thinks about it. Then, he looks at her over his shoulder, smirks smugly, and replies, “Nope!”

“No?” Emerald prompts, but she doesn’t seem surprised. In fact, she must have anticipated this, because she peels the condom off of him, ties it off, and drops it on the floor, then tears open a second one. Lars’ cock twitches when she touches it to roll the second condom on, achingly sensitive from his recent release and not even half hard. Her fist rolls over the shaft a few times, trying to pump him back to his full size, but it’s still too soon, so she quickly gives up and leaves the droopy, too-big wrapper on his semi-hard cock. “Remember, baby, if you don’t cooperate, I’ll find a way to make you talk. This is your last chance to tell me where Sunny is, or I’ll have to punish you again.”

Grinning, Lars lifts his ass in invitation. “It isn’t a punishment if I enjoy it.”

Emerald tears open her last packet of lube and squeezes it out onto her fingers. “Oh, really? Then, I guess we’ll see how you fair when I withhold your pleasure, hmm? You’re forgetting that I know how to make you squirm, baby.”

Lars smiles, rests his chin on the table, and tries to relax. His back tenses when he feels Emerald’s cold, slick fingers press against his asshole once more, then sighs contently as the slender, flexible digits sink into him, two knuckles deep. This will be fun. She only thinks she can break him.

Emerald finds his prostate within seconds. It’s one of those sweet spots she’s mapped out on him, and she knows exactly where to find it as soon as her fingers are inside him. Her fingertips roll over it lightly, teasingly. He hums, pleased.

“You’re such a good little slut,” she tells him as she gently applies a little more pressure to the sensitive gland, massaging it with short, firm strokes, “You could do this all day, couldn’t you? You know, Laramie, I think you misbehave and get into trouble on purpose, so your favorite cop will come take you in and punish you. You just can’t get enough of me.”

He scoffs. “Or so you think.”

“Baby, why’d you steal Sunny? Is it because you were worried that, after our steamy little romp the other night, I wouldn’t give you my attention anymore? Hmm? You need just a little more time with Emmy?”

“Nah,” Lars dismisses her, then purrs when she strokes his prostate a bit harder, “I knew it’d get under your skin, and I like seeing you squirm. It’s funny.”

“Mom and Dad got upset with you stealing things back home, hmm? Made you leave, so you moved here. And now you have no friends, no family. So, you need Officer Emmy to keep you company, don’t you? Admit it, baby. You like being my bitch. You have no greater purpose in life than entertaining my every whim and spending everyday being a horny little bitch underneath me.”

Lars cocks a brow. “Oh, you’re profiling me now? Typical. Where do you get these wild ideas of yours, anyways? I have loads of friends. I definitely don’t need you.”

Grinning, Emerald stops massaging. “Oh, really? Because right now, I think you really need me to help you come.”

Lars shuffles uncomfortably. Oh, he did not like that she stopped. She can feel him trying to wrestle his hips backwards to grind against her fingers, desperate to get them moving again.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she scolds him, slapping him firmly on the ass. He yelps, startled, then gives her a sideways glare over his shoulder. “No. I want you to tell me where Sunny is, then I’ll make you come.”

He tries to resist. She nudges her fingers back in, rolling them smoothly along his prostate. Her other hand reaches around him, one finger tapping on the head of his cock impatiently. He’s completely hard again now, stretching the condom taut around his thick shaft.

“I’m not a patient woman, baby,” she reminds him after a few minutes, rolling her fingertips over his prostate only often enough to keep it tender and buzzing, never enough to help him even an inch closer to orgasm, “You gonna tell me where Sunny is?”

Lars shivers. “I-I’ll take you to your stupid car myself! Just fuck me already!”

Emerald’s fingers press against his prostate hard, massaging deeply. “Oh, baby, you must take me for a fool. I’m not about to follow a criminal somewhere. Not without back-up.”

He whines. Emerald grins, then continues, “It’s nothing personal. But, you could be planning on taking me to some dark alley to bash my head in, for all I know. I can’t trust you, baby. You’re a thief.” He shudders as she strokes. “But wait! You wouldn’t do that, would you? Because…oh my god, you’re into me, aren’t you?”

Lars’ stomach feels tight and warm. Stray strands of hair stick to his forehead with sweat. He feels like he’s in a daze, so close, so close…

“Answer me.”

He swallows hard. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good boy…,” Emerald coos, smirking smugly as she watches him practically tremble underneath her, “You need to come? You’re close, I can feel it.” Her fingers start to slow down. “So, I’m going to ask you one last time, where is -”

“Withrow Avenue! There’s an empty warehouse there, Sunny’s parked behind it!” Lars yelps, panting, “Please fuck me! Please!”

Her fingers speed up again, massaging him deeply, just the way he likes. That pleasant warmth starts to build, feeling oh-so-uncomfortably tight. She strokes his tender gland slowly and smoothly, giving him the deepest, warmest sensations, until he cries out her name in a strangled, slurred moan and collapses face-first on the interrogation table, head between his cuffed wrists. He’s whimpering sweetly and breathing hard, slim chest rising and falling harder than usual. He’s a sweaty, horny mess and she couldn’t be happier with her handiwork, humming cheerfully as she pulls her fingers out of his ass and dries them on her slacks. “Good boy! Now, was that so hard?”

“Jerk me off,” he whines, “Please.”

“Okay, but only because you cooperated,” Emerald tells him, wrapping a hand around his shaft and stroking it smoothly through the rubbery condom, back and forth and back and forth until he moans and absolutely floods it. It damn near overflows and makes a mess of the floor anyways before he finishes, panting and rightfully exhausted.

While Lars catches his breath, Emerald removes the condom, ties it off, and finds an empty coffee cup in the nearest trashcan to bury it and the other soiled rubber in before she tosses them. Tampering with evidence, she thinks to herself as she unfastens the harness ensnaring her thighs and steps out of it. She fetches an empty evidence bag from one of her manila folders and tucks it inside, then sets it down on the table and finally removes the handcuffs from Lars’ much abused wrists. There are thick, red marks on his skin, which she holds close to her face and kisses. “Mwah.”

“Ugh,” Lars grunts at her, “Now you wanna be lovey-dovey?”

Emerald gathers her things and clocks out while Lars redresses himself. The two of them walk out together, Emerald directing him away from any surveillance cameras that might catch them bumping hips flirtatiously on the way out.

“So, what are you gonna tell them?” Lars asks once they’re in the parking lot. He doesn’t have his car, so he’ll have to walk home.

Emerald opens the passenger door to the squad car and sets her bag down in the floorboards. “Easy. You didn’t do it. You had a solid alibi, so I couldn’t charge you. There’s going to be a reported sighting of the car in a few hours, and I’m going to go find it in an empty warehouse on - where did you say? Withrow Avenue?”

He nods, then spins her around and smirks at her. “So, I get away with murder yet again.”

“This was far from a murder charge,” she reminds him, tapping him on the nose, “You murder someone and I will have to charge you, Barriga. But, I don’t think you’re the murdering type. You don’t have it in you.”

“No, I’m just a petty thief.” He grins. “Who stole your pretty little sports car.”

“Don’t do it again,” Emerald tells him sternly, then climbs into her squad car and cranks it. The engine doesn’t roar to life quite like Sunny’s does. She frowns at it.

Lars leans in the window. “Any chance I can get a ride home?”

“No,” Emerald tells him, rolling it up.

“What? Emmy, it’s like ten miles to my apartment from here!”

“Your problem, not mine. Besides, I’m still mad at you for stealing Sunny and having the nerve to call her hideous and tacky.” She blows him a kiss, then backs out of her parking space and drives away without another word. He has his wallet. He can take the bus. She’s not worried.

Emerald intended to wait a few hours before she went to retrieve Sunny, to correspond better with her cover-up story, but she can’t wait any longer. She’s too eager to have her beloved vehicle back in the safety of her own garage, not tucked away somewhere in the city slums where anyone could be vandalizing it or stealing her brand-new rims.

Just as Lars had said, Emerald finds Sunny on Withrow Avenue, parked behind an abandoned warehouse. The place is deserted. She climbs out of the squad car and resists the urge to pounce on the glinting golden hood of the car, overjoyed to see it safe. She’ll leave the squad car here and have someone drive her over at the beginning of her shift tomorrow to retrieve it, she thinks as she reaches into her pocket for her keys - and immediately remembers that they’re not there.

She looks around. She checks inside the cabin, underneath the bumper, and behind the tires. Nothing. Cursing, she stomps her foot and throws herself a bit of a tantrum where hopefully no one can see.

That bastard still has her keys.


End file.
